This is the first abstract watercolour I have attempted in a while when I first painted the background and then the subject.
It features part of a purple to pink airhead against a graduated background of green through yellow to orange with sponged decoration.
I am pleasantly surprised with the result.
The term bathos was introduced to me during an English language lesson in the late seventies at secondary school. Never in a million years, did I anticipate living bathos last Sunday afternoon and evening.
Having enjoyed and celebrated, the most sublime live acoustic guitar music and vocals from Matt and Zane, Acoustic Guitar Bros at the Wickham Hotel, Brisbane we were catapulted into the ridiculous world of ‘Balls Out Bingo ….. Not Your Nanna’s Bingo’, hosted by Candy Surprise.
A book of games costs $15, $5 of this is donated to the Brisbane Hustlers, a gay and inclusive rugby union football club. A cheque for $4,000 was presented to them on the night.
My initial, if somewhat snobbish reaction soon evaporated as we participated in the most hilarious interactive experience we have enjoyed in decades. It included singing along, dancing, and throwing coloured lightweight plastic balls around.
Members of the Hustlers team assisted in keeping track of the bingo balls and removed articles of their kit to the bawdy hoots, whistles, and applause from the crowd.
These sketches of tubes of watercolour were a step towards the current period of painting.
Today is a a public holiday in Australia. Anzac Day is a day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that honors the members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who served and died in wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations. It’s observed on April 25th each year to commemorate the landing of ANZAC troops at Gallipoli during World War I. It’s a solemn day marked by ceremonies, marches, and paying respects to those who sacrificed for their countries.
My moody morning maudlin madness malady moments:
Meandering maleficent moans move menacingly
‘Mongst magnificent muscled mussels.
Mischievous memories make marvellous maverick minced mauve mouse morsels;
Merely mighty marsupial monsters’ meditation medication!
Mingling marshmallow mounds may melt,
Meeting marching musical motor machinery.
Merry Movember marketing mates mission; mint more money!
Melancholic meek maidens miss mute maelstrom’
Manic milky maggots mocking marrow merchandise.
Mansion mountain; media mogul meeting magnet.
More moor-bound muck mired mournful monolith,
Meticulously melding moribund mange mites, muddy mort.
Monday’s malevolent maze mind musings
Make multiple minute manipulations, mutating morphemic meanings.
On 12 November 2023, ambitiously, I attempted to paint a watercolour of a cloud formation in the shape of Airhead against a pale blue sky. I had not considered the overall objective of the work. Being unhappy with the result, I set it side.
A couple of weeks ago, the prospect of running out of paper and a relatively successful painting of airhead in repose two months’ later led me to add to the cloud picture.
I am pleased with the result, Airhead uploading to the cloud.
Holding a window
My right hand takes the lead.
Left index, middle, and ring fingers hold it up,
Pinkie stops it slipping,
Thumb is free: to scroll, to type, to tap, and to swipe.
Supplied as safe for use
Yet in the wrong hands, untold havoc can be wreaked.
Window to World’s wonders,
To humankind’s horrors, to heaven, and to hell.
Reeled in by digital
Words, numbers, pictures, sounds, games, networking, selling.
Steals you from the moment;
A portal to the past, future, and the unreal.
Sleek stylish case contains
Rare earth elements; poor harvesters’ lives snuffed out.
A battery fuelled time bomb
To become an environmental pollutant.
Without technology
Would we be ….. more or ….. less?
This morning, I was feeling a mixture of trepidation and excitement. My new block of A3, three hundred gram, textured watercolour paper was delivered by Amazon on Wednesday.
Just before I went to sleep the other night, I thought of broad black seaweed like bands containing bright orange ovoids. Over the following days I doodled with chains of circles bounding the shapes.
I started with seven reduced to five, today, I decided to paint three. This is the first time I have conceptualised a painting with inked shapes being integral. To date I have added the rings after the watercolour has dried. Shapes evolved as I went along.
I wondered whether to follow my usual practice of not positioning the ovoids in pencil first. I decided to sketch the path the chains would follow.
During the voyage of discovery, I added four more ovoids.
Curiosity is one of my traits.
The following self observations led me to take an online Obsessive Compulsive Disorder quiz; I have possible signs of OCD.
Yesterday, I was having more trouble than usual in making a decision. I decided not to paint as I did not believe the result would be any good.
Snatching a few moments after lunch and before going in the spa, I used green ink to sketch bubble chains with knife or claw like weapons plus eight and ten pronged star shapes ending with more prongs or spikes.
I imagine microscopic strings of metal snaking and undulating as they meander through the cosmos. The armament is used to defend, attack, and infiltrate asteroids, comets, and anything else that can assist its survival and reproduction.
The serpentine forms protect the dandelion clock like heads as they disperse and germinates more seeds of destruction.
What do you think they could be named?
Even with the air conditioning on twenty five degrees centigrade on Wednesday night, I was sweaty and had a restless night. I awoke too many times to count. I went to sleep seeking inspiration for my next painting, perhaps featuring airhead or more ovoids.
The dream
One of the dreams included a back garden of the house we are living in. Noticing a fallen orchid branch, I stuck it into the soft earth below a tree whose trunk was too wide to get my hands to meet while hugging it.
I assumed the tree was very old. The gnarled serpentine roots appeared to be breaking ground as far as the eye could see. I wondered if this was the reason the concrete pad next to the carport was lifting.
Noticing an avocado on the ground, split open to expose the green flesh and stone, I looked up. Whole fruit hanging tantalisingly from the branches above. Feeling hungry and needing to prepare breakfast, I went to get a dark honey finished high, backed bar stool, setting it below one of the lower branches.
Upon climbing onto the stool, it wobbled frightfully, backwards and forewords. Gaining balance, extending to my full five feet and seven inches, I could not reach the prize. I grabbed the nearest branch, giving it a vigorous shake, I imagined a deluge of heavy thuds.
Nothing happened.
They are not ready to fall, I thought. The vendors of the house must have harvested before we moved in this time last year. Excitedly, I rushed towards the house to tell husband, M. about the bountiful tree.
The reality
We do not have a high, backed bar stool in our household. We do not have an avacado tree growing in our garden. I have only seen and walked under an avocado tree while holidaying in Port Douglas, Far North Queensland. I remarked the other day it is coming up to ten years since we last visited. I miss it.
The avo stone is an ovoid within the flesh ovoid within the skin ovoid; Russian doll springs to mind.
The loops in this picture are each three colours in pencil plus ink on top. As I was completing them, I thought, why did I start this? Later on I thought of Faberge styled avocados.
theINFP 